will this rocky road
round again
arc into a sunset bend
lined with petals
of roses and rapture
a seventh heaven
beyond this
fruitless fracture
woebegone and bereft
some windswept words
fly off your chest
like wayward wishes
on stars and misses
when there was time
of tender rest
sedate your soul
in a sloppy slap
of appetite
stew your desire
in fire of
lustful loss and
absent bliss
and wallow over
how and why
your days of trite,
light and night
are not supposed to
mix like this
you don’t have time,
you know
to found a fairy tale
a shrouded sheet
of layered shale
as cover from
the timely blows
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